


Crescent Veins

by lilfaeriechild



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Related, Canonical Character Death, Chaptered, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Spoilers, Minor Character Death, Minor Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Mostly Canon Compliant, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Self-Indulgent, Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Spoilers for Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), but only compliant with the parts i like, god fuck what else do i tag this thing, graphic depictions of the main character having feelings, i'm a journalism major and the first piece of writing in years to make me proud is a fucking fanfic, its cool we’ll flash back to it later, realized i forgot a Really Important scene but it was too late, so incredibly self-indulgent, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-12-28 10:50:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21135503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilfaeriechild/pseuds/lilfaeriechild
Summary: Cecelia Vidali had been thirteen years old when her father had handed her over to the Mages. The experiment had lasted almost a year before she escaped, grateful to have done so before they could instill a Crest in her the way they had in Lysithea. As desperate as her father was to put a Crest into the family bloodline, Cecelia refused to be saddled with something that would dictate the rest of her life. Still, after all these years, she was branded; running from an entity that she didn’t understand.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:  
First of all, thank you for giving this fic a chance. It’s my first fic since I was in middle school, so hopefully I’m making a strong comeback.
> 
> Second of all, the story here runs parallel with the canon story that Byleth follows in the Golden Deer/Verdant Wind route, but there are quite a few things I’ve tweaked to fit my own telling of the story a bit better. So it’s not FULLY canon-compliant, but it’s pretty damn close.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> **THIS WORK IS NOT SPOILER FREE! It contains (or will eventually contain) spoilers for both pre- and post-timeskip events for the Golden Deer/Verdant Wind route.

_Ethereal Moon_

_Imperial Year 1180_

It was only when the pull of her bowstring started to feel heavy that Cecelia realized she needed a break.

She took a moment to catch her breath, taking a seat on the ground as she swallowed several large gulps of water. A gentle breeze coaxed stray pieces of auburn hair to fall from the loose bun at the back of her head. The sun had just begun to rise, casting a soft glow across the stone floor beneath her.

It was about ten minutes before she was up and moving again, wiping the sweat from her hairline as she lined up another shot. It would have been a perfect hit, too, had the doors not creaked loudly and startled her. She fumbled, and was too distracted by her new visitor to notice the light clink as her arrow hit the stone floor.

“Careful, Vidali. You might hit something.”

“If I’m lucky, I’ll hit you.”

Growing up in the Alliance had put Claude von Riegan in Cecelia’s life at a very young age. They met just a year after he came to Fodlan from Almyra, when they were both nine years old. They’d been best friends since, and one could never be found terribly far from the other. As teenagers, they roamed Derdriu on sleepless nights, and now they studied together until the early hours of the morning. They’d spent so many years side by side, and she’d always known that a life without his presence would be a life severely lacking.

“Hey, whoa,” his hands went up in surrender, “you’re starting to sound like Felix. It doesn’t suit you.”

“And _you’re_ starting to sound like Sylvain.”

He blinked.

“What do you want, Riegan?”

“I couldn’t find you. I figured you this is where you might be.” He handed her the stray arrow. “You’re going to be late for lecture if you stay much longer.”

She sighed. “Already? Goddess, I really have been here for a while.”

Claude laughed as she tucked the arrow into her quiver. “Race me to class?”

_“Absolutely not.”_

As they walked the monastery grounds, rumors flew in every direction. Garreg Mach’s annual ball was just a week away, and the Officer’s Academy was abuzz with gossip. It seemed that Dimitri and Byleth were the biggest causes of commotion. Who considered themselves worthy of dancing with the crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, or the most well-loved Professor at the Academy?

They headed for the Golden Deer classroom, where their Professor was seated at her desk at the front of the room. As he took a seat next to Cece, Claude glanced up at Byleth. “You got a date to the ball yet, Teach? I’ve heard all the students are dying for the chance to dance with you.”

Not looking up from her writing, the Professor simply replied, “It would be inappropriate for me to discuss such things with my students, Claude.”

“Oh, come on, Teach. Didn’t you tell us on your first day that you wanted us to treat you like a friend?” Claude was unrelenting, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “There’s got to be someone who’s caught your eye.”

Cece snorted. “Maybe she’s going with Lorenz.”

With an over dramatic gasp, Claude’s eyes flew to the Professor. “Teach. We all know you’re better than that.”

“Isn’t everyone?” Cecelia couldn’t stop herself, and immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. “Uh--that was too far. Sorry, Professor…”

Putting her quill back in its inkwell, Byleth finally looked up. Completely ignoring Cece’s blunder, she said, “I told you that you could treat me as a friend, but I never gave you permission to pry into my personal life.”

“If I guess who you’re going with, will you tell me if I’m right?” Claude really did love to push his limits with Byleth. As far as anyone could tell, he was the only student who could get away with it. The Professor didn’t reply. “Is it Manuela? No--wait, you’re not that predictable. Is it Sylvain? Dimitri? Edelgard?”

Stoic as ever, Byleth simply tapped her stack of papers on her desk, then put them in one of the drawers. “You’ll find out in a week.”


	2. Crestless Blood

_Ethereal Moon_

_Imperial Year 1180_

First it was the glow, and then it was the pain.

A faint red light in the darkness of her bedroom woke Cecelia from her sleep. The Crest of Riegan stared back at her tired green eyes, its light pulsing slowly against her wrist. With each flicker came a burning sensation that crept its way up to her elbow. She simply watched as the brand’s light faded in and out, now desensitised to the pain she’d once considered unbearable.

She’d been thirteen years old when her father had handed her over to the Mages. The experiment had lasted almost a year before she escaped, grateful to have done so before they could instill a Crest in her the way they had in Lysithea. As desperate as her father was to put a Crest into the family bloodline, Cecelia refused to be saddled with something that would dictate the rest of her life. Still, after all these years, she was branded; running from an entity that she didn’t understand.

Cecelia stirred in bed, now resigned to the fact that she wouldn’t be getting any more sleep. She rolled over and grabbed the black gloves off her nightstand, slipping them on to cover the insignia on her wrist. She brushed auburn curls out of her face and stood up. Stepping into the short, pleated skirt of her uniform, she tucked in her blouse and pulled black socks over her knees. Her boots sat in the corner by the door, and she knotted the laces tightly, giving her heels a few decisive taps on the ground before stepping out into the cold morning air.

As usual, she was up before the sun. At a loss, without her training gear with her, she wandered aimlessly and tried to clear her mind.

“It seems we both are sleepless tonight.”

Cecelia startled and turned around, recognizing the turquoise ringlets that stepped into the faint moonlight. “Flayn? Won’t Seteth get worried if he realizes you’re gone?”

She giggled, “I often find myself awake in the middle of the night. My brother knows that I like to take walks when I am unable to sleep. But, I do not wish to bother you, if you are on your way somewhere.”

Cecelia shook her head. “It’s no bother at all. Actually, I’d appreciate the company.”

Flayn’s expression lit up as she stepped forward. “Let us walk together, then.”

A smile tugged at Cecelia’s lips as they fell into step with one another, and Flayn didn’t seem at all concerned with the lack of conversation as they wandered. They ended up at the greenhouse, and before long they were sitting at the end of the dock, legs swinging over the pond as the water rippled in the breeze.

“Oh! Look!” Suddenly full of excitement, Flayn pointed, and Cecelia’s eyes were drawn to the ripple of a fishtail just beneath the surface. “It would seem that the fish are awake as well.” She paused a moment, closing her eyes, taking in the sounds of the breeze against the water. “When my brother and I would visit the Rhodos Coast, it was much the same. We were always there before sunrise. It was always just us, and the sea.”

Cecelia looked at her. “You know, I’ve never seen the ocean before.”

Flayn met her gaze, wide-eyed, her lips parted slightly. “Really?”

Cecelia shook her head. “I think I went once, when I was really young. But I’ve always wanted to see it for myself one of these days.”

“My brother and I frequent it.” The young girl said, her eyes going back to the water. “Its beauty is simply indescribable. The sound of waves crashing is so soothing, and--” she stopped herself with a sigh, then giggled. “Well… if you would like, you should join us the next time we visit.”

“I’d love to.”

“How strange, to have lived without ever knowing the sea. I cannot imagine such a life.” There was something akin to sympathy in Flayn’s tone.

“I suppose so.” Cecelia shifted. “I guess I was just busy with other things. I never really considered it terribly important.”

Flayn exhaled, her gaze now somewhere on the horizon. “Understandably so. It was a blessing that, even amidst the chaos of our lives at the time, my brother and I were able to remain so close to it.” 

Cecelia quirked an eyebrow, leaning back on her hands. “You always talk like your childhood was eons ago.”

Flayn giggled, but her eyes didn’t move from the skyline. “It very well may have been.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, look!” She pointed. The sun had slowly begun to rise over the Monastery walls. One by one, students and faculty began to emerge from their quarters, and as the bell rang out with its distinctive melody, Garreg Mach slowly came to life.

Flayn and Cecelia were the last to arrive to class, and their fellow students were chatty as ever. They took their seats next to Claude and Hilda, who were bickering loudly about their partner activities for the week.

“We can’t do _ too _well, okay?” Hilda twirled one of her pigtails absently between her fingers. “I don’t want the Professor to get the wrong idea.”

Claude quirked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want her to raise her expectations about my work ethic.” She said, as if it should have been obvious. 

“I would encourage you to remember that the Professor never held such expectations to begin with.” Flayn pitched in absently. “Even if she were to raise her standards, you could still apply minimal effort to future tasks.”

Hilda blinked at her as Claude worked to pick his jaw up off the floor.

Finally noticing the stunned disbelief plastered on everyone’s faces, she smiled innocently. “What?”

Cecelia stifled a giggle.

“Well,” Hilda sighed, “I can’t say she’s wrong.”

Claude gave her a glance. “At least you don’t lack self-awareness.” And then, “Look, just promise me you’ll try at least a _ little _bit this time around? Teach may not have expectations for you, but she definitely has some for me. I’d like to keep my reputation.”

“You mean your reputation as the teacher’s pet?” Cecelia teased.

“Hey, don’t be jealous because I’m the favorite.” Claude flashed her a wink. “I can’t help it that I’m irresistible.”

Hilda put a hand over her mouth in a fake gag.

With the chime of the bell at the end of lecture, students began to depart their classrooms. The courtyard of the Officer’s Academy was once again filled with bustling students. 

“Cecelia.” Lysithea’s voice calling her name came as a surprise. “Do you have a moment? I’d like to talk with you about something.”

It was strange. Lysithea seemed to have a sixth sense for when the Crest on Cecelia’s wrist had started to act up. They’d only spoken about it once or twice before, but whenever it came about, Cecelia knew it was a conversation that needed to be had. 

“Did someone find out?” Cecelia spoke in hushed tones, even as her bedroom door clicked shut.

“No,” Lysithea said starkly, “I have to show you something.” She pushed up her sleeve. Two inisgnias, both emitting a soft light, burned brightly on her wrist. Gloucester and Charon; both Crests that she’d been ladened with during the experimentation. They were red and blistering, pulsing as if to match Lysithea’s heartbeat. The skin around and underneath them had visibly swollen. “It’s getting worse.”

The sight made Cecelia’s stomach turn circles. She looked away, instead meeting Lysithea’s gaze. “Goddess, Lys.” The queasiness was catching up to her. “Are you okay?”

“They hurt… but, yes.” The younger girl dropped her arm, letting her sleeve fall back into place. “Even after all this time, my body is still getting used to having to bear two Crests.”

Cecelia’s gaze went to her feet. She remembered that day clearly; when both of them had had Crest symbols etched into their skin. She remembered the Mage’s words as he stared at her, his eyes cloaked in shadow: _ When our work is finished, it will be removed. _

And the work was never finished. They escaped, Lysithea with two Crests and Cecelia without any, but their work was never finished.


	3. Childhood Tears

_ Ethereal Moon _

_ Imperial Year 1180 _

In Cecelia’s dreams, she was behind bars. She tended to be when these dreams occurred, and it was always the same.

_ She looked down at the puncture in her veins, holding her wrist tightly as if to will away the pain. Her cheeks were soaked with tears. She choked back sobs as her wrist began to throb, a searing pain shooting up to her elbow. Pieces of hair dangled in her periphery, matted beyond saving, and her lips felt like they might crack at any moment. Looking over, she could see the long, white hair of one of the other girls, who was sitting silently in the corner of her own cage. _

_ The echo of footsteps drew Cecelia’s attention to the front of the room. A figure, cloaked in all black, loomed in front of her for a moment, before they put their hand out in front of them. “Your Crest. It is decided.” _

_ White light filled the room, and all at once, Cecelia’s entire body was overcome with blistering pain. She screamed. The sensation was hot, intense, burning from her core all the way down to the tips of her fingers, her toes, and piercing like daggers through her skull. An eternity passed. Two. Three. Seconds that felt like years, minutes that felt like millennia. _

_Slowly, painfully, something hot carved into her wrist, over the scars and wounds that only just begun to heal. She could feel it; some sort of crescent moon being etched onto her skin, branding her as an experiment. __  
_ _At the release, her body crumpled. Her limbs folded in on themselves like the break of a wave, the agony circling back into a dull thrumming that pulsated through her body._

_ A red light flickered slowly from her wrist. There, where the heat had bored into her skin, was the Crest she was to be given: the Crest of Riegan of the Ten Elites. _

_ “When our work is finished, it will be removed.” _

_ Exhaustion prodded at Cecelia’s every nerve. With her body in a heap on the floor, her forehead pressed against the cold tile, she spiraled into sleep. _

She woke with a start, sitting upright, and her body tingled with residual adrenaline. For a moment she sat, eyes closed, and took in the stillness of her quarters. With each breath, the dream faded from her body and the tension fell from her neck and shoulders. Then she stood, slowly, and got dressed for the day.

The bell chimed soon after, and people began to mill about. The news had just hit that the Professor’s father--one of the most well-known Captains of the Knights of Seiros--would be joining the Golden Deer for their next escapade. Between that and the fast-approaching annual ball, the students of Garreg Mach were alight with enthusiasm.

Cecelia had only spoken with Captain Jeralt once or twice, but she was just as excited as anyone else to have the chance to fight alongside him. Given Byleth’s talent on the battlefield, his skill was sure to astound. And somehow, he’d been roped into a training session with the Golden Deer class.

She arrived early to the training grounds, her eagerness to work with Jeralt having overcome her desire to use her free day to laze around. Leonie was already there when she arrived, and she chatted Cecelia’s ear off about her days as the Captain’s apprentice.

Cecelia wasn’t sure how long the session was supposed to last, but it had already been about an hour, and most of the class had filtered out. The students that remained couldn’t seem to get enough of Jeralt’s advice.

“Good form. Just be careful not to exhaust all your strength on the drawback.”

Ignatz was soaking up his every word, his eyes wide, attentive, and full of admiration. “Okay, I see.” He worked to prepare another shot. “Like this?”

Jeralt nodded, a smile creeping onto his face. “Exactly.” He continued to hover around, stopping by each student to observe their techniques. “Leonie, what do I always tell you?” His words brought her to a halt as she held her spear over her head. “If you keep your arms bent like that, you’ll lose all your momentum. Let the blade carry your swing.”

“Right.” She was cool and confident, just like always. “Thanks, Captain.”

Cecelia was working her sword arm, trying to better her parry. Something about her work felt particularly lacking, and she could feel herself growing frustrated with each exhaustive swing.

“Hey, whoa,” Jeralt came up behind her, “you’ll break it if you keep that up. No need to use so much force.”

Cecelia’s brows came together in the middle of her forehead. “What should I do instead?”

“Here.” He took the sword from her, demonstrating the movement in slow motion. “See what I mean about momentum? You don’t want to expend all your energy when you bring it towards you.” He indicated a spot on his abdomen, then said, “Your drawback should line up right about here. Once you start to make your hit, let that excess energy carry the blade forward.”

The doors squealed open, and Byleth’s voice floated across the stone floor. “How are they doing?”

“Hey, kid.” He put an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting much when you asked me to do this, but your little brats are pretty impressive.”

If any of them had been watching more closely, they would have seen the tiniest of smiles on Byleth’s face as her father hugged her closer. “Good to hear. I just wanted to make sure they weren’t driving you crazy.”

“Hey, come on, Teach. We’re not _ that _much of a handful.” Claude finally spoke up, having just landed a bullseye on one of the training dummies.

“Good shot, but lift your elbow a little bit more next time.” Jeralt noted absently.

Byleth sighed heavily, glancing at her student with an expression nearing exasperation. “You’re right, Claude. It’s only you that I have to worry about.”

Cecelia snorted.

“Um… Captain?” Marianne’s soft, mousey voice was hardly audible, especially in the openness of the training grounds. “I don’t mean to bother you… but, I…” She hung her head, wringing her hands together at the center of her stomach. “I was wondering if you could help me work on my aim. If it’s not too much trouble…”

Jeralt’s voice suddenly took on a soothing tone as his expression softened. “Of course. Marianne, right?” The way he spoke changed his demeanor completely. It would have been easy to assume that it was how he talked to Byleth when she was a child.

Marianne nodded, her eyes still glued to the floor.

“Okay. Show me what you’ve got.” They started to walk away, Jeralt handing her a bow and talking to her reassuringly. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, alright? It isn’t an easy thing to master.”

The Professor watched him for a moment. She didn’t smile, but there was a flicker of happiness in her eyes.

“It seems like you have a good relationship with your father.” Cecelia tried not to let jealousy seep through into her voice.

Byleth nodded. “I’m very lucky for it.” She replied simply.

“There you go, that’s perfect. Now, remember that your arrow’s going to head for the ground as it moves forward. Account for that when you’re lining up your shot.” The Captain was standing behind Marianne, bent over slightly to match her eye level. “Keep it steady. Hold your breath, if you need to.”

The girl’s hands were shaking, noticeably, and she inhaled deeply.

“Perfect. Let it go whenever you’re ready.”

Marianne released and the bowstring snapped forward with a slight _ twang _. Byleth and Cecelia joined them as they watched the arrow sail through the air. When it struck just slightly outside the bullseye, Marianne burst into a fit of giggles. “I did it!”

Jeralt was beaming, looking at her with the utmost pride. “Color me impressed. Nice work.”

Marianne looked up at him. “Th-thank you, Captain. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You really are talented. I think we’re all glad to have you on our team.” Cecelia said in earnest. 

Byleth nodded agreeably.

“That was excellent, Marianne!” Ignatz chimed in, now wandering over from his workspace. “Maybe we should train together, sometime.” His eyes went to his feet, a smile on his face as he tried to conceal the red in his cheeks.

Marianne’s eyes were gleaming with happiness. “I… I’d like that, Ignatz.”

Claude gave a crafty smile. “If you two are done flirting…”

“H-hey!” The blush in Ignatz’ cheeks intensified. “No one-- I’m not… You shouldn’t tease people like that!”

The brunette raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. “Is that a challenge?”

“Alright kids, that’s enough.” Jeralt’s eyes went to Claude. “You really are a handful, huh?”

“Trust me, I can do _ much _worse.” The boy replied, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Just ask Teach.”

Byleth sighed, addressing her father. “Unfortunately, he’s right.”

“It’s true.” Cecelia concurred. “I’ve put up with him for eight years.”

Marianne’s laughter was bright, an unusual but wonderful sound that took everyone by surprise.

Ignatz could barely speak. “You… have a delightful laugh, Marianne.” He was clearly flustered, but his voice was genuine despite it. “You should use it more often.”

Claude threw out his arms, looking indignantly at Cecelia. She glared at him and shook her head. _ Don’t you dare, _she mouthed.

Watching Byleth and the Captain talk--not only as Knight and Professor, but as father and daughter--Cecelia could feel the envy rising in her gut. Her teacher’s words were on a loop in her head: _ I’m very lucky for it. _ She wondered what that was like. What Byleth’s childhood must have been like. Sure, Jeralt was a mercenary, but he _ cared _for her; even as she followed in his footsteps teaching children to defend themselves, just as he had taught her, he looked after her and worried about her and made sure she was taking care of herself.

What was it like, to have a father like that?

“You okay, Vidali?” Claude’s voice summoned her from her daydream. They were alone.

Cecelia nodded, baffled by her own distractibility. “I was just thinking.”

He didn’t say anything, only expectantly raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not important.” She emphasized. _ It shouldn’t be. _

Claude studied her for a moment, his brows furrowing slightly as he stepped toward her. She could hear him breathing, slowly and deeply, curiosity etched into his expression. Her heart fluttered. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

She’d never heard this register of his voice before, even in all the years she’d known him. It was quiet, hushed, and sincere, yet it still contained a bit of the mischievous tone that she knew so well. Something about hearing him speak in such an unusual way sent a wave of electricity through her. “It’s…” She exhaled, finally conceding, “It’s my dad. And the Professor’s dad. The Captain is so… _ kind _to her. He’s so fatherly, so loving. She’s the center of his world, and he shows it.” 

_ My father is the reason I’m an experiment. _

Feeling the tears threatening to form in her eyes, she tried to breathe through the tightness in her chest. “A girl like me can’t help feeling a little… a little jealous. You know?”

The look in Claude’s eyes shifted, the confusion morphing slowly into a sort of melancholic empathy. “I know.” He said softly. A silence sat between them for a moment. Then, slowly, he put his arms around her in a hug. “I’m sorry, Vidali.”

She wished that he would use her first name, just once. 

Then something inside her snapped, and she was weeping, her fist closed tightly around the fabric of his shirt as her tears soaked his chest. “What am I going to do?”

He didn’t respond, and she didn’t expect him to. What could he have said?


	4. Save Me a Dance?

_ Ethereal Moon _

_ Imperial Year 1180 _

It was the anniversary of the founding of Garreg Mach monastery, and the day of the ball. Very much at the expense of their Professor, the Golden Deer couldn’t seem to think about anything else for more than a few minutes at a time. Cecelia wondered if the other houses were as unruly as her own, but she couldn’t contain her excitement any better than her classmates.

“Oh, I cannot wait for the ball!” Flayn clasped her hands, resting her chin against her interlocked fingers. “It has been far too long since I have had the chance to wear such a beautiful gown!”

Claude looked over at her. “Far too long, huh? Flayn--how old  _ are  _ you?”

“No matter.” She shook her head. “It would seem to me that this night will be absolutely magical.”

Cecelia and Claude shared a confused glance.

“Ooh, us girls should get ready together!” Hilda suggested. “It would make all that work  _ soooo  _ much more fun!”

Flayn’s eyes lit up. “That sounds delightful!”

Cecelia was grinning from ear to ear. With a nod, she said, “It really does. I’ll need some help with my makeup, anyhow.”

“Yeah, don’t even worry about me.” Claude’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “You ladies have your fun. Maybe Lorenz can help me with  _ my  _ makeup.”

“That is highly improbable.” The young noble said loudly across the room. “I can  _ hardly  _ stand to look at you for so long.”

“Take a joke, Gloucester.” Cecelia replied. “He doesn’t actually want your help. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He mumbled something, but Cecelia didn’t care enough to ask him to repeat it.

Innocent as ever, Flayn tilted her head. “Do you wear makeup, Claude? You are truly full of surprises.”

The bell chimed, and the students’ excitement turned the Professor’s lecture into mildly frenetic chaos. Claude sliding a note over to Cecelia’s side of their desk only made it harder for her to concentrate.

_ Save me a dance?  _ Was written haphazardly on a torn piece of parchment.

She couldn’t hide the smile that broke out on her face. Butterflies flooded her stomach as she wrote back,  _ Of course I will, Riegan.  _

When he read it, he simply looked over at her and winked.

Class’ dismissal left them with a few hours of free time, but the night approached swiftly amid the chaos of the day. Before she knew it, Cecelia was in Hilda’s quarters, surrounded by a mess of clothes and makeup brushes.

“Oh, dear.” Flayn said worriedly. “It seems I will have to hem my skirt.”

Cecelia laughed. “Do you have time for that?”

“Ooh, I do!” Hilda’s hand shot into the air. “I can fix it up real quick, just give it to me.” Needle in hand, she worked astoundingly fast, pulling the thread through the perimeter of Flayn’s skirt in only a few minutes. “There! I hope that’s not too short, I sorta guessed on the measurements…”

Flayn took the dress from her, holding it up against her frame. The skirt was almost the same color as her hair, with a modest, long-sleeved black top. “It is just perfect!” She squealed. She took the skirt in one hand and swished it back and forth playfully. “Thank you ever so much, Hilda.”

“Mhmm.” The older girl smacked her lips together, putting the cap on her lipstick. Her hair had come down from its usual pigtails, cascading over her shoulders down to her waist.

“Are either of you going with anyone?” Cecelia was trying to force a comb through a particularly stubborn mat.

“My brother said he would not allow it, but…” Flayn’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Ashe has already asked to accompany me.”

Cecelia winced as her comb pulled especially hard against her scalp. “How do you plan to get away with that?”

Flayn grinned, her expression distinctly that of a child reveling in the idea of defying authority. “I will attend with my brother at first, but I will not be staying with him for very long.”

The comb finally broke through the worst of her tangled hair, and Cecelia looked down at the strands that hung from its teeth. She grimaced at the sight, but said, “That seems like an infallible plan to me.”

Hilda had disappeared behind the screen she’d put up in the corner of the room, her academy uniform draped over the top. Through the sounds of shuffling fabric, she made a noise of agreement. “I’ve had a few guys ask to dance with me,” she sighed, her voice muffling briefly as she pulled a piece of clothing over her head, “but nobody I’m really interested in.” After a moment, she gasped, as though an idea had come to her. “But maybe I can get them to do my chores…” 

Flayn and Cecelia exchanged vaguely disappointed glances.

When she stepped out from behind the screen, Hilda hardly looked like herself. Her gown was a dusty red, and it seemed to shimmer from every angle where the light hit it. Lace sleeves trailed down her arms, the centers of their flowers studded with gems. As she walked, the skirt trailed behind her.

“Oh my goodness.” Flayn’s eyes were sparkling with admiration. “You look positively  _ stunning,  _ Hilda!”

Cecelia could tell that Hilda knew it for a fact; the way she carried herself exuded a kind of confidence that Cecelia had never seen in her before. “That dress really is breathtaking.” She added.

“Thanks, girls.” Hilda blushed. “I modified it quite a bit, so I’m glad it worked out.”

Cecelia’s gown was rose gold in color, with a layered chiffon skirt that worked up into an intricate lace bodice. As she slipped it on, she couldn’t help the nagging awareness that she felt more beautiful than she ever had.

It wasn’t long before they were outside the towering doors of the reception hall, where Rhea greeted them with a soft smile.

The dance floor was a flurry of color, dresses and skirts flying across the floor as the orchestra played an upbeat, waltzy tune. Students lined the gold-plated walls, waiting for a dance, chatting among themselves in hushed tones. Above them, hanging from the towering ceiling, were three banners, each representing one of the Academy’s houses. The entire hall was bathed in a soft, shimmering, golden light.

Cecelia found herself searching, looking above the heads of the people in the crowd, for Claude. She was walking on her toes, trying to boost herself up more than her heels could do.

“It looks absolutely beautiful…” Flayn was awestruck, taking in every little detail. “It is even more wonderful than I imagined it would be.”

Even Hilda seemed a bit surprised at the sight. “It really is. I can’t believe how much work all this decorating must have taken. Just  _ thinking  _ about it is exhausting.”

“Ah, there you are.” A dignified yet familiar voice spoke above the chatter that filled the room. Seteth put a hand on Flayn’s shoulder, then looked to Hilda and Cecelia, giving them a brief nod. “Good to see you both.”

Flayn gave a heavy sigh. “Brother,  _ please.  _ Can I not stay with my friends for just a while longer?”

The man shook his head. “I am not sure they will be able to protect you from any boys that may try to act… inappropriately. Come, let us find your Professor. I wanted to speak with her about something.”

“Is this  _ really  _ the time for work-related conversation? I do not understand you, brother.”

And then he whisked her away, and the two were lost in the crowd.

Cecelia traced the perimeter of the room, losing Hilda somewhere along the way. She walked slowly, taking in the gaiety, stopping to appreciate the little details of the decorations and the dresses that swirled around her.

When she crashed full-body into someone else, she thought for a moment her heels might break as she wobbled backwards.

“Cece! You okay?”

She knew exactly who that voice belonged to. She looked up at the tousle of red hair in front of her, and he was looking down at her with his hand coiled around her arm to keep her from falling. “Sylvain.” She tried to hide the disappointment in her tone. “Thanks for the catch.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. Couldn’t stand to let a pretty girl like you hit the ground like that.” He gave her that same old charming smile, then said, “You look absolutely gorgeous tonight, by the way. Maybe you could save me a dance?”

Cecelia knew she should have expected such a comment from him, but she found herself caught off guard despite it. “Uh… I’m actually looking for someone.”

“Sylvain!”

The redheaded boy looked in the direction of the voice, which was coming from somewhere Cecelia couldn’t see.

“Ah, I… have to go. I think His Highness is having girl trouble.” She watched him go, pushing through the students around him with various iterations of “‘Scuse me, so sorry.”

_ Crisis evaded. Thanks, Dimitri. _

She continued her circle around the dance floor, trying her hardest to stay aware of the  crowds, but still searching for Claude.

_ Save me a dance, Vidali?  _ She hadn't imagined that, had she? He was around; the reception hall wasn’t  _ that  _ big. As she approached the back corner of the room, she saw the distinct, dark blue of her professor’s hair, which had been pulled into an intricate updo. Byleth’s dress was a mint green, outlining her whole figure and flaring out just below the knees. It was something Cecelia never expected to see, but she couldn’t deny how stunning the Professor looked.

She thought about approaching her to say something, but was intercepted when a gloved hand reached out toward Byleth. The Professor smiled; a rare sight, but not surprising under the circumstances. The hand belonged to none other than Dimitri, crown prince of Faerghus, who looked more dashing than ever in a royal blue dinner jacket and white dress pants.

“Professor?” He smiled, clearly a bit baffled by his own confidence.

“Your Highness.” She matched the softness of his tone as she placed her hand in his.

He laughed as he pulled her, gently, out onto the dance floor, curling his hand around her waist. “Please, there’s no need to call me that. Tonight, we are simply Professor and student.”

The rest of their conversation was drowned out as they floated across the room, Byleth looking the happiest Cecelia had ever seen.

Minutes went by, then ten, then twenty. She’d been pulled out to dance a few times, by Sylvain, by Ferdinand, and even by Dorothea. She managed to catch sight of Ignatz dancing with Marianne, and Ashe locked in a waltz with Flayn. But even through the joy of seeing her friends so happy, she couldn’t stop herself from looking for Claude. Her feet were starting to hurt, and she felt she might suffocate from the tightly-knitted masses around her.

When she’d completed a full circle around the room with no luck in her search, she snuck out into the courtyard.

The Officer’s Academy was different at night.

Above her, stars dotted the blanket of night sky, and the moon shone brightly among them. The air was cold, and she shivered faintly as she reached down and slipped off her shoes. The grass was wet between her toes. She took her skirt in both hands, lifting it to avoid soaking the hem, and began to walk.

Cecelia had never been to the Goddess Tower before. It was a sacred place, one that typically spent all of its time closed off to the students. Something drew her there, although she didn’t know what. Maybe it was the legends about the Tower, but she wasn’t even sure she believed in such things.

She wandered the outer perimeter of the Cathedral, her feet cold against the stone floor beneath her, and her shoes growing heavy in her hand as she carried them.

The Tower’s spire seemed to reach clear up to the sky, with ivy coiling all the way up to its peak. The bridge to get to it spanned about twenty feet, and as Cecelia pulled the door handle, she realized it was still locked. Instead she sat, dangling her feet over the side of the bridge, looking down at the mountain that descended below her.

It was a quiet night. She breathed deeply, closing her eyes, taking in the stillness around her, and reveling in the tranquility of it.

“I thought you said you’d save me a dance.”

The voice made her eyes snap open, and she couldn’t prevent the smile that appeared on her face as she turned. “Where have you been all night?”

“Looking for you.” Claude’s jacket was gold with black trim, with a bow tie to match. His hair had been slicked back just slightly, but his typical braid still dangled against his cheek. 

Looking at him almost knocked the wind out of her.

“Me too.” She laughed quietly. “What a coincidence.” She shivered again, wrapping her arms around herself as he situated himself next to her.

Claude glanced at her. “Cold?”

“No.”

He sighed rather loudly. She could practically feel him rolling his eyes, and after a moment, warm fabric found its way draped over her shoulders. “Liar.”

“Shut up.” She grumbled, but still pulled his coat tighter around herself. There was a brief silence, and she eventually embraced the giddy feeling that wearing his coat instilled in her. “I guess the Professor and Dimitri ended up attending together.”

Claude let out a breathy laugh. “I always thought I saw them exchanging looks, but Teach is pretty hard to read.”

“She looked really happy.” Cecelia looked over, seeing him only in his waistcoat and undershirt. As if he could have made it any harder to be a person around him. “Marianne and Ignatz, too.”

He met her gaze. “So, what about that dance?”

Her eyebrows shot up, and she felt the sudden urge to give him a taste of his own cunning medicine. “What about it?”

“Oh, you know.” She deflated slightly when he looked away, but she kept her eyes trained on him as he spoke. “It’s the night for magic, isn’t it?” His gaze moved to the skyline, the moonlight behind him casting shadows on the side of his profile that she could see. “Dancing, beautiful music, good food…”

Cecelia looked up at the spire beside her. “And the legends about the Goddess Tower.”

Claude nodded. “You’re supposed to make a wish, right?”

“Something like that. I think… maybe two people have to make a wish, together. A man and a woman, if I’m not mistaken.” She adjusted next to him without elaborating, hoping that he would put two and two together.

Luckily, he did. “Why don’t we, then?”

She tried to act as if she hadn’t practically dragged him to that conclusion by force. “Right now?” She asked innocently. “What do we even wish for?”

“I dunno.” He looked over at her, and their eyes met. After studying her for a moment, he started, “You know, all those years ago… when we met, I never imagined us like this.”

She tilted her head. “Like what?”

His eyes moving to the horizon, he said, “We were just kids. I didn’t know what to expect from our friendship. But you’ve been right there, all these years, and I… I can’t help but think it’s because we’re supposed to stay together. For a really, really long time.”

His words sent a wave of bliss through her.

“So, why don’t we wish for that?”

She could hardly even talk. “That sounds… wonderful.”

Together, they closed their eyes, the breeze picking up as they sat together in a perfect moment of quiet.

Cecelia Vidali and Claude von Riegan. Together. 

It didn’t sound like such a bad idea.


	5. The Professor's Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> **PRE-TIMESKIP, ALL-ROUTE SPOILER WARNING**

_ Ethereal Moon _

_ Imperial Year 1180 _

They were in battle.

It wasn’t unfamiliar. The adrenaline rushing through whenever Byleth called on Cecelia to make a move. The feeling of blood, fresh and warm, coating her sword and her clothes and her skin. The sounds of chaos around her--blades clashing and the battle cries of her teammates, metal piercing through armor and terrain ablaze with spells of fire.

Giant wolves and demonic beasts, though; that was unfamiliar.

She remembered Miklan. Sylvain’s disinherited brother, who had attempted to take advantage of his family’s relic without possession of the appropriate Crest, and who had turned into something more horrific than Cecelia’s mind could have conjured on its own.

The Captain was there, behind her, his horse whinnying, bucking as he tried to gain control and find a place to lodge the tip of his lance into the monster’s chest.

“Get down!” Lysithea called out just before the flame shot from her hands, and Cecelia felt a rush of heat over her head that exploded as it collided with the beast’s throat.

The thing let out a terrible cry; a scream that felt as though it could shatter the world around them.

On the other side of the monster was a student--cowering, afraid--who stumbled back into a boulder behind him when the beast reared back on its hind legs.

Cecelia’s swings were frenetic and sloppy, but she tried to remember the advice that Jeralt had given her during their training. As the beast slammed back into the dirt, a claw flew in her direction and she doubled back toward Leonie. 

The redhead thrust out an arm, connecting with Cecelia’s shoulder and shoving her to one side. “Coming through!” And then an arrow just barely grazed Cecelia’s cheek.

Jeralt had swung around to flank the beast, his lance everywhere at once as he jabbed and parried and fought. And Byleth next to him, calling out orders through battlecries of her own.

Cecelia sheathed her sword, and in a fluid motion pulled the bow from her back and nocked an arrow. She tried to follow through on her aim as the monster’s head whipped from side to side.

One shot. Then two. Then three. Miss. Miss. Miss. 

What the hell was going on?

And then a cry attracted the beast’s attention. Claude had vaulted himself up to the top of a boulder. “I used to have a dog that looked just like you!” He taunted, and Cecelia could see his hand reaching for the dagger at his belt. “Except it wasn’t  _ nearly  _ as ugly.”

It all happened at once.

The monster let out another one of its earth-shattering cries, and its claw swung forward, connecting with Claude’s ribs. The impact knocked him sideways, and he rolled from his perch onto the dying grass below.

_ “Claude!”  _ Cecelia screamed so loud that it burned in her throat. The adrenaline coursing through her peaked, her breath loud and heavy through the heartbeat thrumming in her ears. Hot rage boiled inside of her. Blackness spotted her vision, sending a wave of dizziness through her head. She threw her bow down, disregarding the arrow that fell with it, and once more pulled her sword from its sheath.

And then she was running, her feet flying across the grass as her own cries rang out in her ears.  _ “I won’t lose him!”  _ The words came from nowhere, and she hardly recognized her own voice. She threw her whole body upwards, her sword raised high above her head. With all the strength she had, she rammed it forward, piercing fur and skin and bone as the beast reared back again, taking her with it as her knuckles turned white against the hilt of her blade.

She was only in the air for a moment before the monster crashed down, its legs crumpling beneath the weight of its own body. She dropped about four feet to the ground, landing in the grass, and her body tumbled back toward where she’d once stood.

“Cecelia!” An echoey voice wormed its way into her brain, and as her eyes opened, she saw her Professor kneeling beside her. The other students were nowhere to be seen.

Her body felt heavy and weak. It took most of her energy to move at all, but she hoisted herself up into a sitting position. “Where’s Claude?”

“There isn’t a trace of evidence to be found in the chapel.” Her question was never answered as Jeralt stepped toward them. “This must have something to do with Remire. Perhaps…” He pondered this idea for just a moment, his hand reaching up to rub against his beard.

“Wait!” Another voice--a girl’s voice--rang out from behind them. 

Jeralt’s eyes snapped toward the sound, and he moved to meet her as she pranced toward him. “Huh? Another student?”

“Mhmm! You guys did real good out there.” It was Monica, the girl that had been rescued along with Flayn just a few months prior.

The Captain laughed, looking at her curiously. “Run along, now.”

With her hands tucked behind her back, Monica nodded. “Thanks for all your help, sir! Those kids wouldn’t have made it without you!”

Cecelia didn’t see the dagger when Monica pulled it from her belt. She only saw the Sword of the Creator lash out to intercept it, and felt the dread that struck her heart as she recognized the man that appeared between them. She saw a ball of energy burst around him as the extension of the Professor’s blade bounced back, retreating to its original form. She saw Monica pull the knife from Jeralt’s body, and she saw him plunge forward onto his knees.

“Huh?” The young girl turned, clearly surprised by Solon’s presence. “What are you doing here?”

“You must survive.” His voice was hauntingly familiar; that same low, soul-stirring growl that had laced Cecelia’s childhood with fear. “Merely because there is still a role that I require you to fulfill.” He turned, pulled Monica up against him, and they vanished into blackness.

Jeralt tumbled forward, his chest hitting the ground as Byleth rushed to him. She turned him to face her. He let out a low, guttural sound, wincing at the pain that shot through his body. “Sorry…” His voice was weak, blood dripping from the wound and staining the grass crimson red. His eyes opened, taking in the sight of his daughter’s face, knowing it would be his last chance to do so. “It looks like… I’m going to have to leave you now.”

That was the only time Cecelia would ever see her Professor weep, and Cecelia wept right along with her. The feeling of dizziness turned into the world dropping out from underneath her. She felt heavy, yet weightless, as though she was simply an observer watching everything through a glass window. It was real. She knew it was real. One of the greatest knights to ever grace the history books was fading away, right in front of her, and she still could hardly grapple with the idea of such a loss.

Byleth’s father looked at her closer, seeing the tears well up in her eyes. “To think that the first time I saw you cry…” his hand reached up, wiping his daughter’s fallen teardrop from his cheek. He looked at the residue that it left on his fingers. “...your tears would be for me.”

“Father…” The Professor could hardly speak. “Please…”

It was clear now that he had accepted what was to come; the shock and fear of the unknown settling in his expression, the lines of pain and concern that had been etched into his brow now fading as the tension eased away. “Thank you… kid…”

And then he was gone.


	6. If You Must Weep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
*hands you Soft!Byleth*  
*hands you Soft!Byleth*  
*hands you Soft!Byleth*  
*hands you Soft!Byleth*  
*hands you Soft!Byleth*  
*hands you Soft!Byleth*  
*ha

_ Guardian Moon _

_ Imperial Year 1180 _

It was a week and a half before Byleth returned to teaching her own lectures. In the days following Jeralt’s passing, the Golden Deer class had been tossed back and forth between Hanneman and Manuela; even Seteth stepped in to teach a class or two, much to the embarrassment of his younger sister.

Upon her return, the Professor was met with students who rejoiced in seeing her wandering the Monastery again. Sylvain had even stopped by with a bouquet of flowers, weaving condolences and sincerity into his naturally flirtatious words. “Dark expressions don’t suit you, Professor.” He’d said, leaning against her desk. His expression made it abundantly clear that he felt as though he were walking on eggshells; trying to act like his normal self, without being so casual as to dismiss the gravity of Byleth’s mourning.

Cecelia felt much the same. She’d always struggled with finding comforting words, especially when it came to speaking about loss. What could possibly provide the right amount of sympathy to someone who was suffocating under the weight of grief?

“There are no words.” She’d heard Dedue tell the Professor, concern painted into his  usually stoic expression. It was oddly comforting to know that he was struggling to navigate the situation as much as she was. From what she knew of his relationship with Prince Dimitri, this was almost certainly not the first time he’d found himself attempting to console someone in mourning. It made Cecelia feel better knowing that she wasn’t the only one hindered by uncertainty.

Sylvain shifted hesitantly. “I’m happy to see you… out and about, that is.”

It was one of the few times that the Professor wasn’t wrapped up in paperwork before class. She was looking up at him, her melancholy eyes in deceit of her otherwise listless expression. “Thank you, Sylvain.” Her voice was soft, its usual confidence clouded by the sorrow that laid thick on her tone.

Class was dismissed before the bell that day. There was no chatter as the students packed their belongings and went their separate ways, and instead, an uncanny silence plagued the room. 

Cecelia lingered behind, even after her classmates were gone. “Professor?” She was hesitant, and Byleth looking up to meet her eyes only heightened her apprehension. There was a chronic awareness within her that she would never have the words to properly express her grief; she had experienced the Captain’s death herself, and it still felt impossible to make her sympathies sound genuine. “I… I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. Your father didn’t deserve to…” And then she faltered, her words feeling hollow as she spoke. With a breath, she said quietly, “Someone like him shouldn’t have been taken from this world… from  _ you…  _ so soon.” She tread carefully over every word, feeling like she might drown in her own self-awareness. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what to say.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Byleth said gently. “Thank you.”

When Cecelia spoke again, it felt as if some outside force was pulling the words from her mouth. “Solon isn’t a stranger to me. He’s responsible for this.” And then her gloves were on Byleth’s desk.

In spite of the guilt that she felt for turning such a delicate conversation to herself, something in her  _ needed  _ to say it. “When I was thirteen,” she searched for a way to keep her father out of the equation, “I was chosen as part of one of his experiments. They wanted to give everyone Crests, so they marked us with the ones we were going to recieve. I was never given one, but…” As she began to pull her glove back over her fingers, she said, “If you decide to pursue revenge, know that I want to go with you. For the Captain, and for myself.”

Her guilty conscience grew louder. What was she thinking, manipulating Byleth’s grief into something of personal gain? It wasn’t her intention, but if the roles had been reversed… 

“I’m sorry.” She tried to swallow the urge to cry, unable to meet her Professor’s gaze. “I shouldn’t be talking about this. About me. But I thought you should know. It seems like this situation is much bigger than any of us realize.”

Byleth’s expression never once shifted. Cecelia could see her thinking, processing everything that was said, searching for a response that wasn’t there. And then she rose from her seat, placing a cold hand gently on Cecelia’s arm. “If you must weep, then weep.” She maintained her stolid expression, but her voice still carried her heartbreak. “I will be here for you.” 

For the next several moments, they had suddenly become something so much more than Professor and student. As Byleth opened her arms, and as Cecelia wrapped herself around her teacher in a hug, they were two grieving souls, sharing their sorrows even when no words passed between them. Among the tears that Cecelia shed for her own experiences, the tears that fell for Byleth’s father threatened to overpower them.

“I’m so sorry…” Her chin rested on her Professor’s shoulder as she spoke. “Jeralt loved you more than anything else in the world. I hope that was as clear to you as it was to us.”

The Professor didn’t cry, but she hugged her student closer. “Thank you, Cecelia.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read!! Let me know what you think in the comments, or drop a kudos if you’re feeling generous. I hope you enjoyed!


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